Page 41 of Rhett Redeemed

He sighs. “Probably because I haven’t had a drink in so long, and then all the girls at Toxic made me do shots with them and got me fucked-up.”

I purse my lips, the euphoria from his previously sweet comments diminished. “You got drunk with some other women and then decided to drop into my house unannounced?”

Because home is wherever I am, apparently.

“Yeah, friends do that,” he rationalizes, adjusting a pillow underneath his neck. “Can I stay here? Or do you want me to leave?”

“You can stay here,” I say. I mean, how can I tell him to get out? “Do you want to sleep in the guest room?”

“I’m okay here,” he replies, closing his eyes. I get a blanket and cover him up with it, and leave a bottle of water with some Tylenol next to it.

He’s going to need that.

Rhett showing up here unexpectedly is like a sign that maybe I should just allow myself to be with him. It’s just going to be really hard to get the words out without feeling like I’m doing something wrong.

I guess it’s a problem for tomorrow, though, when he is sober.

I save half my dinner for Rhett in case he gets hungry, and then jump into the shower, wondering how the hell I keep getting into these situations. I understand he had a little much to drink, but why would he come here now? When my body is craving his.

We’re playing a real dangerous game because we obviously can’t stay away from each other.

He came here, he shouldn’t have.

I let him stay, I shouldn’t have.

He said I was home.

Me, a person, not a place. Me.

How could I not melt at that?

I turn the water off and grab my fluffy white towel, wrapping it around me and looking in the mirror.

Who am I?

Brown hair, guilty brown eyes, and a heart that wants someone it shouldn’t.

When I open the bathroom door with the towel wrapped around me, Rhett’s standing there looking a lot more sober than he was a few minutes ago.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“Con, you don’t know what you do to me...” He starts inching closer, and before I know what I’m doing I find myself moving toward him. Like we’re two magnets being drawn together.

“Friends can touch, right?” His finger traces the top of my towel; his touch pebbles my skin.

I nod, unable to speak.

He leans down and kisses the inside of my neck. “And friends can give little kisses?”

I can feel him pause, waiting for my permission, which I give him. I can feel my legs shake.

His finger flicks at my towel and it falls to the floor. “Oops.”

He bends to pick it up, but instead of standing back up he just looks at me from his knees, his head level with my navel. I instinctively move closer to him.

His hand moves up my thigh and finds the spot between my legs that has been throbbing for him. “Con...tell me you want me the way I want you.”

I can barely breathe, let alone speak, so I do what I can. I put my hand over his and start to move it. I tried hard to be a good sister. But the need for Rhett is too powerful.

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